Piles of Files
by Oneturtledove
Summary: Scully is bored. She becomes the butt of Mulder's jokes. There may or may not be moonwalking in the office also. Not a crack fic.


Disclaimer: *left blank at author's request*

A/N: I'm bored. Mentioned song? Go listen. Especially if you find it on the Bones promo youtube video. WIN of EPIC PROPORTIONS. This story is for Julia and Brittney. The best fake daughters a fake mother could ever have_. It's a dead man's party Who could ask for more Everybody's comin', leave your body at the door!_ Love you girls! Random desk crap for the win!

* * *

* * *

The laundry was done. The CD's were organized. She'd already watched _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ and _Casablanca_. The dishes were washed and put away. Her bed was made, complete with hospital corners. The floors were vacuumed, the bathroom scoured, and all the old files were cleaned off of her computer. And it was only 11 o'clock on Saturday morning.

Dana Scully was bored.

Normally when she was bored like this, she would go shopping or call her mom or go out for a run. But she didn't feel like doing any of that. She didn't want to make cookies or read a book or catch up on e-mails or anything.

So she picked up the phone.

"Mulder."

"Mulder it's me."

"Hey Scully. What's up?"

"I'm bored."

"And?"

"Entertain me."

"How come when you say you're bored I have to entertain you, but when I say it, you tell me that only boring people get bored?"

"Because I'm evil."

"Well as long as we got that cleared up."

"Where are you?"

"At the office."

"Why?"

"You'll laugh."

"No I won't."

"I had a dream last night that... Hey, you're laughing."

"I'm chuckling. It's different."

"Well anyway, I had this dream and there was this woman in it, and I know I've heard her name in real life before. I think I met her on a case or she was a victim or something. And I couldn't get her name out of my head and it was driving me crazy, so I came down here to try and figure out who she was."

"What's the name?"

"Sherry Stringfield."

"Mulder, that's a real person."

"It is?"

"She's on ER. Or she was until she decided to leave and the writers decided to rip our hearts out and trample them on the floor of Union Station."

"You sound a little bitter. Over a TV show."

"Do you like hockey?"

"Yes."

"You explain yours and I'll explain mine."

"Well, well, aren't you just the snarky little whippersnapper today?"

"I'm bored," she sighed, flopping back onto the couch.

"Want to come and help me reorganize these files? I know you like them a certain way."

"If I hadn't called you, how were you planning to put them away?"

"I was just going to make another pile."

She sighed and slid her shoes on.

"I'll be there in a while."

* * *

When Scully entered the office a while later, she was not surprised to find that she couldn't see the floor. Mulder was standing next to the filing cabinet and hundreds of files were piled around him, some cascading down into a massive mess of manila.

"Mulder?"

"One thing kind of led to another."

She nodded in understanding and carefully walked towards him through the trail he had left for her. She didn't know if it was intentional or not, but it amused her.

"What are you reading?" she asked, trying to peek around his shoulder. It wasn't easy when she was wearing flats.

"The case in Gibsontown. Remember that?"

"When you thought I ate the cricket? Of course I remember that. It's burned into my brain."

He smiled as he glanced over at her.

"Isn't that my sweatshirt?"

She shrugged and slid her hands into the front pocket.

"Stop leaving things on my couch and I'll stop stealing them."

"Looks better on you anyway."

"I know. So where exactly in the organizing process are you?"

"The part where it's such a mess, I think about giving up."

"So how is this different from any other day?"

"Shut up Scully."

She smirked and moved to his desk to sit down.

"Would it be better if we just put everything in chronologically?"

"I don't know. It might just help if we made an index of where things are."

She nodded and opened his desk drawer in search of a pad of paper. What she found was a cornucopia of unrelated objects.

"Mulder, why do you have a tube of lipstick in here?"

"Oh, that's yours. You left it here and it somehow migrated into my desk."

"What about this toilet paper tube covered in mulit-colored electrical tape?"

"Inside joke with Frohike."

"Seven gum wrapper missles?"

"Ammo for when you shoot staples at me."

"Broken mouse trap?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

She rolled her eyes and finally found a pad of paper underneath a copy of _Little Women_. She was pretty sure he wouldn't want to talk about that either.

They began to work silently together, shuffling papers, making neat stacks, and labeling things. Mulder would hand Scully a file and she would write down the case number, a few identifying markers, and the location, then put it in a pile according to theme. Mulder had the radio on to a mix station, so they didn't even have to make small talk as they worked. It was a nice quiet comfort, and they worked for almost an hour before Mulder's stomach started protesting.

"Geez Mulder, have you eaten in the last 100 years? Put a muzzle on that thing."

"I can't help it if I have a temperamental stomach. I haven't eaten yet today."

"No kidding."

"I'm going to go out and get something. Want to come?"

"I'm not really at a stopping point."

"I'll go get something and bring it back then. Any preferences?"

"Nope. Surprise me."

He nodded and grabbed his jacket off the rack before heading out the door. "Surprise me" when it came to food was code for "I want a crappy burger, but I don't feel like I can admit that." He was proud of himself for knowing that.

He walked down the street to their favorite diner and ordered two cheeseburgers to go. He paged through the classifieds while he waited, amusing himself with the "man seeking woman" section. He could understand the need for companionship, but not the desperation to take out an ad in the classifieds.

The order was ready soon, and he took it and headed back to the Hoover building. Fall was fast approaching, and even though there wasn't a burn pile for about 15 miles around, he swore he could smell the bonfire smell. He loved the early fall; the way the light seemed to make everything richer, the constant smell of cinnamon and cider, and the fact that Scully loved fall only added to his own love for it.

He took the elevator to the basement, and as soon as the doors opened, he could hear the music. Scully had turned the radio up, and Oingo Boingo's song _Dead Man's Party_ was playing. He never had her pegged for an Oingo Boingo fan.

He peeked around the door and had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Scully was doing the moonwalk as she moved between the desk and the filing cabinet. She may have even had a little head bobbing going on.

"Hey Scully," he said as he came into the office.

"Hey," she replied, not looking the least bit embarrassed that he had found her dancing. He grinned and set their lunch on the desk, then grabbed her hand and spun her around in time to the music. She laughed and danced along with him for a moment before they both started to feel ridiculous. He let her go, but they both continued to sing along with the song until it was over and a tire commercial came on.

"I got you a cheeseburger."

"Thanks. I'm starving."

"I thought I was starving."

"Yes, but then I did the moonwalk, so I'm starving now too."

"I never thought you would do the moonwalk."

"It's the most valuable thing I learned in college."

"Well aren't you just a smooth criminal."

She rolled her eyes as he handed her a burger.

"What did you do while I was gone? Besides pay tribute to Michael Jackson?"

"I finished indexing all the files from 1991. There's some interesting stuff in there."

"Such as?"

"Diana's typos on the reports and her lack of any grammatical skills whatsoever."

"You were so charming when you came in here."

"Sorry. It was just on some of the reports she made you out to be a moron. And I'm the only one allowed to do that, so it kind of bothered me."

"Well, we'll be into 1992 soon and you won't have to look at anything Diana related."

"Good."

"You know, you don't have to stick around. It's Saturday. Go footloose."

"You can only do that on Sundays."

"Why?"

"Because the song says to kick off your Sunday shoes. You can't wear Sunday shoes on Saturday."

"You've got me there."

"Besides, I was bored at home. This is much more entertaining anyway."

"Thank you."

* * *

"When was the last time you think this place was dusted?"

"Probably during the Nixon administration."

"Yikes."

"Think I should find a duster?"

"No, I'll go get some wet paper towels. That'll work better," she said, surveying the room, her hands on her hips. She hadn't seen it this clean in her life. It had taken them almost 8 hours, but it looked good. The idea that it would only stay that way for a few days broke her heart, but she pushed the thought away. "I'll be right back."

She left the office and Mulder rounded up all the garbage bags, tying them up and sticking them outside in the hallway. The custodians would take care of them later.

"So true story," Scully announced as she returned. She handed him a handful of damp paper towels to dust with. "I was in the bathroom just now and-"

"There was a liver eating mutant in the toilet."

"Yes. Also, I walked by the mirror and realized that I do not have a butt."

"Excuse me?"

"I could fit like 3 more of my butts in these pants."

"That's... um... good to know."

Her face colored as she looked at him.

"I can't believe I just told you about my butt."

"I can't believe it either."

"I just said whatever was floating around in my brain. Why did I do that? Where is my filter?"

"I think your filter was the weekend apart, but we kind of ditched that idea."

"Forget this conversation ever happened."

He chuckled and gave her a half hug.

"Scully, between you and your butt, life is never boring."

She covered her face with her hands.

"I am never going to hear the end of this am I?"

"You're going to be the butt of every joke-"

"Mulder."

"I'm sorry. I'll butt out."

"You'd better."

"But-"

He knew the elbow to the ribs was coming, but he didn't have time to deflect it. Next time, he'd be more careful.


End file.
